


Standing on Ceremony

by Je_Suis_Une_Pomme



Series: Prompts and Requests [3]
Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: First Kiss, Fluff, Formal Attire, Lame attempt at humour, M/M, Pining, awkward weddings, childhood nemesis, getting together because it's my personal drug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-30
Updated: 2020-08-30
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:48:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26202940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Je_Suis_Une_Pomme/pseuds/Je_Suis_Une_Pomme
Summary: "Captain, forgive me, I must admit to some confusion. I fear that I have misunderstood some part of human culture. I do not understand why you would attend such an event where you do not have a positive regard for either the bride or the groom.""They were going to talk about me regardless of whether I came or not - I'd much rather know what it is they're saying and I figured having a handsome alien with me would at least give them something new to talk about.”Spock accompanies Jim to the wedding of his childhood rival.Written for the prompt: I need a date for this wedding.
Relationships: James T. Kirk/Spock
Series: Prompts and Requests [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1892623
Comments: 44
Kudos: 420





	Standing on Ceremony

**Author's Note:**

> The full name for Finnegan and the rest of the background cast are made up by me.
> 
> The ever wonderful TheRookHallanos (Jin) helped write the clothing that Jim and Spock wear to the wedding.

_Prompt: I need a date for this wedding_

Formal wedding invitations were a rare occurrence when flying through the emptiness of deep space. It took ten minutes for the image of delicate florals and swirling golden calligraphy to fully load on the holoscreen at his private computer terminal. The script formally invited him, James Tiberius Kirk, to witness the impending nuptials of one Patrick Neal Finnegan and Niamh Siobhan Jacoby.

Why _he_ of all people was invited, he had no clue. He hadn’t actually spoken to Finnegan since he all but fled from Riverside. 

Actually, he knew exactly why he was invited. Because, while Jim was captain of a renowned starship on an exploratory mission, Finnegan had everything else any red-blooded Terran would want while dirtside. He got the girl, he got the house with the white picket fence, he got the good job and doting parents, and he was no doubt about to get the loving in-laws. He had the opportunity for a large extended family crowding around the table, breaking bread and laughing, inside jokes and tender moments. He had the stability, both literally beneath his feet and emotionally, that no Starfleet captain had the luxury to experience. He probably also had a dog. 

Jim would go if he was able, he had decided this immediately, and while he was a decorated officer and proud of his accomplishments, all other guests in attendance would no doubt look down their small-town, small-minded noses at him.

He didn’t even have a hot date to hang off his arm to distract from how utterly lonely they would perceive him to be. 

“Captain,” Jim looked up, startled from his reverie, “it is your move.” He blinked several times, eyeing Spock as a tantalizing idea bloomed in his mind. He ignored the chessboard between them and instead leaned his elbows on the table, cupping his jaw in his hands.

He was lovely - striking, angular features, rich and fathomless eyes, soft-looking lips that were so expressive even if only minutely so. His ears - exquisite and alien and Jim often daydreamed of reaching out to trace a finger down the shape of one. His neck, pale and slender, wide shoulders, broad chest, narrow waist, and legs that stretched on for miles. He would look fucking _fantastic_ next to Jim in a suit. 

“Spock,” he inquired and he received a single, arched brow in response, “I have been invited to a formal event where it is encouraged to bring along an accompanying guest. Would you like to attend with me?”

The second brow joined the first reaching for his hairline as Spock regarded Jim, eyes flitting back and forth, trying to no doubt glean some deeper meaning from his seemingly innocent query. 

“What sort of event?”

*

There was a blessed three weeks where it seemed the _Enterprise_ would be nowhere near Earth and Jim would be forced to, regrettably, retract his affirmative RSVP to the Finnegan-Jacoby wedding event. 

As it was, a sudden change in luck resulted in the _Enterprise_ docking in Earth's orbit for minor repairs and shore leave the day before the nuptials and Jim resigned himself to attending as promised. He was undecided on whether or not the universe as a whole was conspiring for him or against - on one hand he was about to attend the wedding of his childhood nemesis, but on the other, the occasion allowed him to lay eyes on Spock in formal attire. 

His First Officer arrived at the Shuttle Deck, composed as ever, his tall figure and athletic build were only enhanced by the crystalline lines of emerald fabric. His waist was cinched with a wide, golden sash, and the sleeves of his robes bellowed, hiding his hands tucked inside. Down the lapel was elegant, Vulcan script stitched in gold. His feet were clad in soft shoes, dark and suede-like in appearance, and they made no noise as Spock descended the few steps to the flight deck. 

Jim pulled at the collar of his charcoal dress uniform. He enjoyed how it cut him as a dashing hero out of some old Terran storybook. Gold piping and shining brass buttons stood out against the black serge, the gold embroidered chevrons of Command sat comfortably on his broad shoulders. His tall, black boots were polished to a mirror-like shine and they clicked on the floor, his short brimmed captain’s hat was tucked under one elbow as he crossed to meet his officer halfway. 

"Should I change my attire, Captain? I was under the impression that this was a personal, Terran event… would my uniform be more appropriate?"

"No, god no, you're perfect."

Jim wavered where he stood, fighting the impulse to offer his free arm and escort Spock to the shuttle that would take them dirtside. Spock met his gaze impassively. 

“You look great,” Jim felt his mouth say, a dopey grin spreading across his face like jam on toast. He finally won the battle raging inside his brain and turned to walk towards the shuttle; the hiss of fabric was the only sound to confirm that Spock was following him. 

The ride planetside was uneventful. Jim tried to explain country Terran weddings in the vaguest terms possible, while also giving gentle warnings as to what could transpire. 

“This is a small town,” he said over the roar of the engines, “I’m not sure any of them will have met a Vulcan before - or any alien to be honest.” Spock’s face did not hint at any discomfort at this prospect. “So you might get a lot of weird questions from those brave enough to ask. Or, they might ignore you entirely. But I somehow doubt that - you look way too lovely to ignore.” Spock’s eyes did flick up to meet Jim’s at that, but he quickly looked away again out the window, resettling his clasped hands in his lap.

*

Jim had arranged to rent a hovercar from the shuttleport to drive them himself to the event destination. He had insisted he was disinclined to be beholden to anyone else in order to make an escape - should he have need of one. Spock was uncertain of his ground vehicle piloting capabilities, but settled into the passenger seat smoothly, discretely clutching the door handle as the engine came to life under the Captain’s fingers. 

“I once drove a car off a cliff,” Jim said merrily, throwing a genial grin in Spock’s direction; this was not a soothing comment, but likely one that would incite good humour in any other passenger. Spock frowned. 

The journey out of the port and onto the open road went smoothly and Spock felt himself relax. He recognized Jim’s skill, though still quickly calculated the distance to the nearest cliff off which they could possibly drive. The nearest lay in the opposite direction they were traveling and was far enough away to remain negligible. 

The landscape whipped past - fields of corn, soybeans, and wheat stretched across the horizon outside of his window the further away from the city they traveled. Jim had his window retracted, and his hair stirred up in a flurry of blonde sunlight. He sang along to the music device inside the vehicle, straying away from the key several times, laughing brightly at Spock’s raised eyebrows when Jim looked over and caught him staring. 

The venue was at the end a long, twisting drive lined with old, gnarled trees that loomed over in a green tunnel; the branches were strung with twinkling lights, their trunks wrapped with swathes of airy fabric and turquoise ribbons. An old sign with hand-painted lettering marked the way towards the wedding ceremony. 

The tunnel of trees opened up to reveal a retro-styled farmhouse, yellow, nestled next to a small orchard of fruit-bearing trees. Large blooming hydrangea and hibiscus bushes lined the front garden proudly, with rows of staked peonies, towering purple cornflowers and foxglove above a bed of hostas. Next to the front door two wooden chairs sat angled out, overlooking the rolling fields of corn in the distance. Beyond the house on the opposite side of the drive, a manicured lawn hosted a gathering of guests, mingling in front of a large barn-like structure. There were no animals that Spock could see.

Jim parked the vehicle and the gravel crunched under their feet as they made their way to the rest of the guests. 

“It’s not too late to change our minds, you know,” Jim ducked his head and offered a lop-sided smile that was lacking his normal exuberant confidence. His hands were shoved deep in his pant pockets. 

“To leave now would be illogical,” Spock said, “we have already arrived.” 

“Well,” Jim sighed, “I suppose you’re right.” He was quiet for a few steps as they drew nearer, then, “It looks like we’re early; nobody has gone inside yet.” 

“The ceremony will not be outdoors?” Spock queried. 

“No, it'll be in the barn,” Jim craned his neck to look beyond the crowd. The barn doors were closed, and beyond it looked to be a tent for, Jim had postulated, reception activities. 

"When you had described this event as taking place within a barn, I had incorrectly assumed you were employing your sense of humour."

Jim laughed brightly and Spock was unable to resist the minute upturn of his own lips in response. 

"Yeah," he said, "but there will be no animals inside, don't worry - aside from the groom, of course." 

The nearest guests had turned to watch their approach, and then they were part of the crowd. Spock wondered how many of the guests were of Jim’s acquaintance, given the open stares and murmuring as he passed, back straight and chin raised. Jim had described residents of small towns as all-knowing and he had been somewhat notorious in his youth. Did all these pairs of eyes recognize his Captain? Or, had he changed so much since he had last visited that he was nothing more than a decorated stranger strolling confidently among them. 

Then, there were those that began to approach. They were pleasant by human standards, and very different from the warnings Jim had led him to anticipate during their journey. The people they met often employed more physical greetings than Spock had ever witnessed before - clasping hands and grasping shoulders, slapping Jim on the back with enough force to send him stumbling forward a step, or patting his face. It was fascinating to discover that Jim’s own tactile nature was something learned from the environment he grew up in.

“Jimmy Kirk, is that you?” A greying lady in a bright pink floral dress pushed her way through the crowd, dragging behind her a tired looking man in a dusty, brown velvet suit; his temples were damp with sweat from the early afternoon sun. “It is! Henry, it’s George and Winona’s boy! My!” She released, who Spock presumed to be her husband, and reached for Jim with both hands, clapping him gently on the face then tracing her hands across and down his shoulders. “Don’t you look fancy in your smart uniform,” she said, smiling brightly, “I could hardly believe it when I heard you’d made Captain - isn’t that right, Henry? I said, golly, that can’t be the same boy!”

“Yes, ma’am,” Jim said stiffly, “one in the same.” 

The woman dropped her hands back to herself then focused her beedy, brown eyes on Spock. Her smile visibly faltered for a second before returning to its full wattage and she looked back to Jim. 

“My, Jimmy, who is this handsome gentleman looming next to you?”

“Mrs. Miller, this is my First Officer, Commander Spock.”

“What an exotic looking fellow,” the woman, Mrs. Miller, mused openly, turning to her husband and swatting him in the arm. “Wouldn’t you say, Henry?” Henry only grunted and Spock looked to his Captain for guidance in this interaction. Jim offered a lopsided smile and placed his hand at the small of his back, pushing away from the couple. 

“We’re going to go and see if we can catch sight of the groom,” Jim said easily, “you take care now, Mrs. Miller, sir,” he nodded to Henry. 

While out of Jim’s earshot, Spock was still able to hear Mrs. Miller say to her husband, “he’s just as strange as ever, wouldn’t you say, Henry?” 

Spock allowed Jim to guide him from one side of the gathering crowd to the other, stopping to greet people only briefly. Almost all of them, once out of human earshot, made some comment that was strikingly different from the impression they gave only moments before. It made no logical sense to say one thing then behave the opposite when the conversation partner walked away. Spock was also surprised that Jim was the topic of many groups of guests, especially of those who did not greet him. And while he thought that he himself would be exempt from such scrutiny, especially since he had never met any of these humans before, he was also the subject of many conversations they passed by. It would seem that the majority of those gathered were operating under the assumption that he was there under duress or merely following orders to attend. 

Before he could question Jim regarding these observations, a hand snuck out of the crowd and clapped Jim on the shoulder rather forcefully. 

“Jimbo, I can’t believe you made it!” 

The smile that froze across Jim’s face was not one that Spock would have classified as pleasant - much the opposite. It more closely resembled the baring of teeth than any display of happiness like his usual expression. 

“Finnegan!” Jim said, and turned to face the man that was standing there. Jim offered his hand in greeting, but it was ignored. Finnegan ran his hand down the front of his light grey suit and turquoise tie, fiddling with the silver buttons. His expression was, for lack of a better way to describe it, greasy. “Congratulations,” Jim said smoothly, dropping his hand, “you finally convinced her to marry you.”

“Are you sad, Jimbo?” Finnegan asked, “I know how hurt you were when she chose me over you all those years ago.”

“There was little choice to it, Finnegan, when I left the state to join Starfleet.” 

“Is this going to be okay?” Finnegan asked, smile spreading, “seeing her marry me, I mean. You never did get the chance to win her back, what with your schooling, new captaincy and, what was that… ah yes, your academic trial and demotion to keep you busy.” 

“Yes,” Jim’s tone was dry as the desert Spock had been raised in, “I have had plenty of years to get over my heartache.” 

“Well, be sure to stock up on tissues before the ceremony, then! We wouldn’t want you to dirty up your nice uniform.” Finnegan looked Jim up and down, smile turning lecherous as his eyes traveled. Spock felt an unpleasant shiver run up his spine.

“Pardon me,” he cut in, “I do not believe we have been introduced.” Finnegan’s eyes snapped to him and widened noticeably, like he had not realized Spock had been standing next to Jim through the entire conversation. He looked now, between Spock and his Captain. 

“Commander Spock, this is Patrick Finnegan.” Jim waved at the man before them halfheartedly. 

“The groom,” Spock realized, standing straighter and holding his hand up in the Ta’al. “Congratulations are in order. I am gratified for the extended invitation through Jim in order to observe the tradition of exchanging nuptials.”

“Jim,” said Finnegan, “did you order a robot to attend my wedding?” 

“Don’t be an insufferable cock, Finny, today’s the day you’re supposed to be nice, remember? Too busy being happy marrying the girl of my supposed dreams.” 

“Is that all you're jealous of?” he asked, “I had assumed that I also was the one that got away.”

Jim’s knuckles audibly cracked as he balled his hands into fists; Spock was not the only one to notice and Finnegan laughed, head tilting back. 

“I’m glad you made it, Jimbo, I would have hated for you to have missed today. I mean, I would have sent you a holovid of all the best moments.”

Jim looked like he might have wanted to say more, but Spock reached a hand out and brushed his fingertips against his elbow; he deflated at the touch and turned to Spock. Ignoring Finnegan, he said, “we should go find our seats.”

“Affirmative, Captain,” he tilted his head towards Finnegan, “it was a pleasure to make your acquaintance.” He pulled Jim’s elbow, leading him away from the groom, only dropping his hand back to his side when they had made it several steps away. 

"That man does not like you."

"Finnegan? Yeah, we fucking hate each other." Jim sighed.

Spock thought of this for a moment, having been certain that the invitation to attend the ceremony had been issued by the groom himself; any yet… "Are you friends with the bride?" 

"God no, I imagine she'll be less than pleased that I actually showed up."

"Is it not customary to invite one's family and closest friends to observe a marriage ceremony?" 

"Yeah, it is." Jim peeked at him, clearly amused. Spock might have heaved a sigh had they been alone in one of their respective quarters aboard the _Enterprise_. He was fairly confident in his grasp of Terran marriage ceremonies having attended several alongside his father; however, this was not the same style of formal event that warranted the presence of ambassadors and other dignitaries. He had never been to such an intimate location as a family farm and had assumed the customs would have reflected such a setting. If Jim was indeed not friendly with either party getting married, then why had it been so important that he attended? As far as Spock was aware, Jim had no family remaining on Earth and the majority of his close friends and acquaintances either resided in San Francisco or in space in some capacity. Those he had met so far this afternoon felt like old associations from his childhood, rather than anyone he kept in contact with for the pleasure of it. 

"Captain, forgive me, I must admit to some confusion. I fear that I have misunderstood some part of human culture. I do not understand why you would attend such an event where you do not have a positive regard for either the bride or the groom."

"They were going to talk about me regardless of whether I came or not - I'd much rather know what it is they're saying and I figured having a handsome alien with me would at least give them something new to talk about.” 

*

They made their way up an aisle lined with delicate white flowers and turquoise ribbons tied into bows, passing several rows of plastic chairs covered in white fabric before Jim selected one and eased into a seat with an air of casual relaxation; his face, however, felt drawn into a tight expression that he could not relax. He reached for the seat in front of him and fiddled with the large burlap bow tied to the back of it. 

"They've gone very traditional - I never would have imagined a wedding like this for either of them back when I knew them." 

Spock’s eyebrows furrowed in that way they do when he has a question and is searching for the polite way of asking it. He opened his mouth and shut it again several times before he settled on, "Mr. Finnegan mentioned more than once that you were perhaps jealous…" 

Jim barked with laughter at the thinly veiled curiosity. He said, "No, I'm not jealous. Not for the reasons they think, at least." He looked up at Spock and smiled; his warm eyes glittered in the afternoon light that streamed in through the old glass windows prettied up with antique lace that fluttered in the breeze from the barn doors. 

"Jim Kirk, you have got some serious stones showing up here." Years and galaxies of distance traveled would not prevent Jim from recognizing that voice. He stood abruptly to greet a woman, dark hair piled on top of her head, wearing a black, glittering dress that cut low down her chest and leaving very little to the imagination. 

"Valerie Smith!" He reached out and embraced her tightly, holding on a moment longer than was strictly necessary; they both kissed each other's cheeks before Jim held her out at arm’s length, grinning. "You are the first friendly face I've seen here since I stepped foot on the front lawn."

"I'm not nice, Jim, we've been over this." She frowned deeply as she said this, but her tone was distinctly fond. "It is good to see you in the flesh." She slid into the empty seat next to Jim and, when he resettled, leaned over his lap to look at Spock.

"Hi there," she waved at him, "you must be the unlucky date Jim paid to be here - I hope you charge him extra for emotional damages." 

Jim choked, "He's not an escort, Vee!"

"I am not being compensated for my attendance," Spock said evenly, "although, I suppose I could submit these hours as overtime to the payroll department…" Spock arched a brow at Jim and he spluttered, his face growing hot. 

"He's my First Officer!" He looked at Vee pleadingly - at least he hoped he looked pleading. 

"You're funny," Valerie said to Spock, tossing Jim a smirk and she leaned back into her own seat. "Seriously, Jim, it was brave of you to come, especially after all the shit between the three of you. I understand your need for emotional support." She gestured towards Spock as she said this. 

"I was either going to be a coward for not showing up, or arrogant for being here. I figured the least I could do was let the gossip mill know that I'm still the town disappointment."

"I fail to see how you are a disappointment,” Spock said. Jim turned to him to watch his eyes dart around the rest of the guests making their way to a seat for the ceremony.

"I'm here so I can be a demonstration in a failed life and so Finnegan can feel good about thinking he's won something over me. It's a pissing contest - not literally, Mr. Spock." he added as those brown eyes widened a fraction in, he assumed, horror. 

"He's got it all!" Valerie offered like it was further explanation; it probably wasn’t.

Spock zeroed in on Jim, his eyes piercing and he felt his cheeks heating further under the pinning weight of the expression. His brow was pinched, his mouth a thin, disapproving line. 

"You are a decorated officer of Starfleet and Captain of the flagship _Enterprise_ , currently on a five year mission the likes of which has never been undertaken before. You are highly regarded in the Federation among humans and others. What could the groom possibly possess that is esteemed as higher than what you yourself have achieved?" 

"He got to you too, did he?" Valerie asked of Spock, falling again across Jim’s lap, eyes gleaming. "Wrapped right around his little finger." An unattractive smirk pulled at her lips; Jim cleared his throat. 

"I am not presently wrapped around any fingers and I fail to see the relevance of such an action." Spock’s spine straightened further, and he looked away as he said, "you are a much greater man than Mr. Finnegan could hope to be." 

"How did you manage that?" Valerie's voice held a note of wonder, "a Vulcan, no less." 

"Oh, hush," Jim rubbed at the back of his neck, "thank you, Mr. Spock, that is very kind to say."

"Captain, there is nothing kind about it, merely fact." 

Jim looked to Vee and she wiggled her eyebrows at him.

If there were any bright spots in Jim’s childhood, Valerie was at the root of them. She was the girl he had once thought he would marry one day. His memories of her were of lazy afternoons in the hot afternoon sun making mud pies down by the creek, building forts in the trees held together with bits of string and sticks with floors fashioned from corn husks. He remembers running across blistering pavement in bare feet and laughing until he was breathless. He remembers laying in the grass and staring at the sky until the lighting bugs disappeared and the stars came out. With sweaty palms they would entangle their fingers and he promised he’d make it up into the sky one day. 

She was his first love.

“I’m going to bang the Maid of Honor,” she announced, cutting into his reverie with her abrupt proclamation.

“Is that so?” he asked, keeping his eyes forward as the crowd around them settled. 

“Yes,” she whispered into his ear and he laughed as the barn doors burst open and tinny music from an old fashioned sound system queued the beginning of the ceremony. 

*

The sun had long set and lights that looked like stars hung suspended, twinkling, strung between the tent posts above the reception activities. 

Dinner had been a formal affair filled with half decent food and free alcohol. There were speeches that may have been funny to those who knew the bride and groom personally, but to Spock they sounded much too casual and, at times, filled with details that should not have been shared in such a public setting. Jim laughed merrily like he was in on many of the jokes; he smiled when the crowd took their utensils and clinked them against their water glasses and the newly married couple would kiss. And, then, with an empty glass of wine in his hand, had leaned into Spock’s space and breathed into his ear, “god, weddings are the worst, eh?” 

Spock thought the entire affair, while terribly emotionally demonstrative, had been rather enjoyable, especially given his present company. 

“I can think of several activities that would be considerably less enjoyable by comparison, Captain, one of which being the report you neglected to complete before we departed this morning.” The open-mouthed look of faux-horror was worth the comment, and Spock allowed a small smile which also resulted in a pleasing reaction: heat rushing into Jim’s cheeks as his expression quickly dissolved into a wide smile. 

“You’re a tease,” he said, standing suddenly, dropping his cup on the table and making his way out onto the dance floor. 

The dance floor - where Jim came alive. Any sideways glances or snide comments were forgotten when Jim joined the party happening under flashing, coloured lights and artificial smoke. His captain’s hat lay forgotten on the linen covered table where Spock sat, watching.

The line of tension across Jim's shoulders had all but disappeared, even in the company of strangers that whispered behind his back. Here, he was no longer an authoritative figure, despite his uniform, but simply James. This was a side of his Captain he had never witnessed before and he was glad of the opportunity. James was the handsome farm boy with an unfortunate upbringing and questionable attitude about how to go about his life. Spock could imagine him wearing a leather jacket, driving a motorcycle, walking through the fields behind his house with fingers outstretched to feel the crops as he walked, wading in the creek with his pants rolled up his calves. Spock could imagine James looking up at the night sky, sun-bleached hair and freckles splashed across his nose, with the same wonder in his eyes that he had seen in his Captain when he thought he was alone on the observation deck of the _Enterprise_. He wondered what this version of Jim would be doing now if he had not joined Starfleet. 

Valerie settled into Jim's seat next to him, cradling a wine glass close to her chest. He tipped his head to her in acknowledgement and she smiled, albeit shyly, and he returned his gaze to his Captain.

"I'm glad he's having a good time," Valerie said after several minutes.

"Indeed." 

"I can't imagine he has much opportunity to cut loose like this." 

Spock turned his attention to her now, raising an eyebrow. She was looking at him rather pointedly, like her comment held significant weight. 

"He does not," he admitted, "being Captain comes with a heavy weight to bear. He handles it admirably; but yes, I agree, it is pleasing to see him as relaxed as he is now, without the stresses of responsibility." 

"You help him with that, though?" 

"I am his First Officer, yes." It was his duty, after all.

"And outside of that…?" 

He deliberately chose not to respond, instead looking back to Jim, who had reintroduced himself to the open bar and was taking shots with the bridesmaids. 

He and Jim had spent countless evenings in each other’s company outside of their regular duties. At first they would speak only of their work, but more recently their conversations had strayed into a more personal dialogue. They still discussed their work, but it was underlined by hopes and desires, misgivings and worry for failure. He supposed this, in a small way, counted towards easing the pressures of leadership; though, he doubted that this is what Jim’s friend was implying.

"He hates weddings," Valerie supplied; she seemed unwilling to let silence reign between them. "He always has." 

"I am not certain of that fact," Spock mused. "Perhaps this type of Terran tradition is not one that he favors; however, he is rather romantic at heart and has always, to me, seemed to enjoy the idea of joining oneself to another in life." 

"You would know better than I,” she conceded. “Do Vulcans have a similar practice?" 

"We do have a bonding ceremony that would be the closest equivalent," he said slowly, "though the ritual itself is very different from what I observed here today." He declined to go into the specifics of the Koon-ut-kal-if-fee. 

"Do you think you will do it?"

"Become bonded?" he asked, eyebrows raised and she nodded solemnly, "Perhaps." He considered this as he watched his Captain cheer wildly as one of the bridesmaids and the best man started dancing together. Having a partner in some capacity was required for Vulcan survival; however, being able to select one himself had never been an option for him until more recently - the idea now appealed to him, he had decided, after more time thinking about it than he would readily like to admit. He had grown up in a society where partners were chosen for the individual by their parents and, as such, took out the guesswork when searching for a compatible mate. There was a certain romance to finding another person and growing into a partnership that could last a lifetime... Such a partnership was not unlike his current relationship with his Captain. “Perhaps.” 

“Have you not talked about it?” 

He turned to her again and she was looking at him with open curiosity. He tilted his head and felt his brow furrow before he could suppress the reaction.

“Clarify,” he said and she blinked at him. 

“You and Jim,” she elaborated, “have you talked about participating in the Vulcan bonding ceremony?” 

Spock was also unable to suppress his mouth parting in surprise; he quickly snapped it shut and his eyes flicked to Jim dancing and back to Valerie. 

“We have not.” 

Silence settled once again, though Spock anticipated its interruption at any moment. “He thinks he was able to run away from all this - and maybe he put some distance between this life and the one he has, but this,” she gestured to their surroundings and, presumably, beyond, “will always be in his blood.” He did not respond, unsure of what point she was trying to convey, if any. 

She leaned into his personal space as she spoke next, “Maybe I’ve misunderstood what’s going on between you, but I can’t have been that far off the mark. He looks at you like you have hung the stars in the sky for him and you,” she pressed a finger into his chest for emphasis, “look at him like he’s the most precious thing in the universe.” 

Spock remained silent. 

“Alright, that’s answer enough” she huffed, backing away, “Why not? Is it because he’s your commanding officer? Because, if he’s anything like the Jim I grew up with, and I imagine he is, he’s always been a fan of bending the rules to suit his needs.”

Spock was saved from having to find some way to respond by the Maid of Honor approaching. She slid her hands across Valerie’s shoulders and leaned down to kiss her on the cheek. 

“Are you playing nice?” She asked.

“Never, darling,” Valerie tilted her chin up to capture an open-mouthed kiss and Spock looked away to give them, or himself, a sense of privacy. “Is it time to go?” He heard Valerie stand and he looked back up to meet her gaze. She said, “it’s been a wonderful pleasure to meet you, Spock. Continue to keep our Jim safe, yeah?” And then she departed. 

Jim sidled up shortly after, breathless and grinning. 

“I almost bet 100 credits that Vee wouldn’t be able to snag the Maid of Honor. I’m glad I saved my money - it turns out they’re married!” He laughed at this and scooped his hat from the table. “Are you ready to depart, Mr. Spock? I think I’ve had my fill of merriment and we will need to leave soon if we want to catch the last shuttle to orbit.” 

“As you wish, Captain.” 

Jim smiled warmly, then fished for the hovercar’s keys in his pockets, tossing them to Spock. He caught them and rose to his feet. They strode out together, shoulder to shoulder.

Spock stopped walking before they reached their vehicle, Jim wandered several paces away when he finally spoke. 

“Wait, Captain, a moment.” 

Jim paused and turned to face him, questioning. His cheeks were still rosy from laughter and dancing. His uniform jacket had been unbuttoned, hanging open to reveal the regulation black tunic beneath it, also undone at his throat. He wasn’t the Captain again just yet, expression open and posture relaxed.

“I apologize, but I feel I need to ask you something before we depart.”

“Of course, Spock, what is it?” He took a step closer, tucking his hat under one of his elbows.

“Captain, are you lonely?” 

“What?” Jim laughed, briefly, “of course not! I have the _Enterprise_ and the crew and you, I’m not lonely.” The corners of his mouth twitched in some form of humour that Spock could not decipher here. This was an answer too easily given and not the one he had been searching for. 

“Then I ask that same question, not to Captain Kirk, but to James,” he said slowly, closing the distance between them by another half a step, “The man I saw today.”

“God, Spock,” Jim inhaled and held it for a moment before letting it out in a shaky gust and looking up at the sky; clouds had started to roll across the velvet black through the evening, the stars obscured now, the moon’s glow a hazy orb above their heads. “I don’t know how to answer that.”

“Truthfully,” Spock supplied. Jim had insisted that there were no jealous feelings for Finnegan and Niamh, that he did not look at their relationship with any yearning; but Spock wondered, now, if perhaps that was not entirely true. It was not the people he longed for, but what they had together. 

“Yeah, I suppose…” He fell silent, collecting his thoughts. His expression remained unshuttered as he searched for his response. “I love my life, my job, my crew, and they fulfill me and make me happy. But, there is a part of me that wonders what will happen when it’s all over. As much as I don’t like to think of it, when I am no longer able to be up there,” he motioned towards the sky, “what will I have?” 

“What do you want?” 

“To not be afraid to face it, I guess.” Jim laughed again, but it was bitter, “that isn’t an answer, is it? I don’t know, Spock. Right now, I am happy with what I’m doing and having you by my side.”

“And after, as you say, it is all over? Would you continue to have me by your side?” Jim froze. 

“Are you offering?” He asked, looking at him with wide eyes. Spock delighted in the spread of colour from Jim’s cheeks down his neck, disappearing behind his uniform. 

“Would you accept?” His voice sounded gravelly to his own ears. 

It was Jim who closed the remaining distance between them with one last half step. He reached and grasped at the sleeves of Spock’s robes with one hand, hesitantly, and he ducked his head to look up at Spock through his lashes. 

“Spock, I-”

The kiss was soft and fleeting, innocent yet filled with promise; it changed everything. They stood together, breath mingling between them. 

“I would remain by your side until the very end,” Spock said softly, “if you would have me.” 

“I would have no one else,” Jim replied. 

**Author's Note:**

> Comments give me life! 
> 
> Come say hi on Tumblr! My username is Une-Pomm3


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